


EOD + ETOH

by TANGOCHARLIE



Series: Jack Dalton's School of Infinite Wisdom [3]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Parental Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), army days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23142370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TANGOCHARLIE/pseuds/TANGOCHARLIE
Summary: Every day is a gift. Especially in Afghanistan.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Jack Dalton's School of Infinite Wisdom [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644943
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	EOD + ETOH

**Author's Note:**

> A not so late night discussion at TC headquarters sparked this latest collab. Hope you guys enjoy reading about it because we sure enjoyed discussing it!

In hindsight, he should have seen this coming. It is the type of information Jack would absolutely get his hands on, even without his mysteriously high security clearance and penchant for knowledge he shouldn’t have which he shrugs off and says “doesn’t everyone know that?”And not in the same way Mac shrugs and says nearly the same thing. Not the way Mac will absently remark about creating an exothermic reaction with the ammonium nitrate of an instant cold pack.

Plus, Mac has this almost pathological need to explain what he’s doing and why. Almost as if it’s a defense for why he has the encyclopedic knowledge he does. Desperate to explain that he’s not trying to cause trouble or burn down a mess hall, there was a whole thought process that went along with his actions. 

So while Mac will explain his understanding of how to build or disarm a bomb, Jack will drop his knowledge bomb and move on. 

This is absolutely the kind of intel Jack would care about having. The type of intel Jack would act on. 

Mac's bunk shudders. Close enough to the surface of sleep that he feels the motion. Rousting him from slumber. His eyes halfway open, searching for what disturbed him. The action isn’t repeated. The barracks quiet. The ghostly blue hue of the impending dawn painting deep shadows against the walls and between the bunks. He’s about to give in once again to the pull of sleep when there’s a rustle next to his head. His eyes spring open wide when a hand clamps against his mouth. 

His arm swings out. The punch weaker than he'd hoped and his fist caught easily by the attacker in the shadows. His thoughts racing, calculating the force and leverage needed to free his arm, and twist the figure into a bruising hold. The decibels needed to wake his bunk mates and raise the alarm. And worry of how an enemy managed to breach the base defenses and how many there are with him.  He knows Jack sleeps with a knife under his pillow and that the smallest sound can wake his partner, so why hasn't Jack intervened yet?

A hidden figure peels away from the darkness.

“It’s me.”

Jack has his finger on his lips, waiting until Mac recognizes him and settles before pulling his hand away from Mac’s mouth. He leans in close, his voice low and rumbling. 

“Come on, we got something we need to take care of.”

Mac frowns, sitting up quickly, running a hand through bunk mussed hair. He throws back the covers and shivers when the cool morning air hits his bare legs as he swings them over the side, pulling on his pants. Reaching down for his boots, he shakes out each one to dislodge any potential visitors before sliding his feet into them, not bothering to lace them yet, in too much of a hurry to follow Jack outside. He gathers up the rest of his gear, swallowing back a wincing as the motion pulls on his still healing shoulder. He’s got another couple of days on light duty. 

Jack is leaning against the wall next to the door when Mac exits the barracks. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Jack asks, pushing up from the wall. He lays a gentle, probing hand on Mac's shoulder, walking the joint through a quick range of motion exercise.

"I'm good," Mac schools his face into a mask, hiding the pain when his shoulder twinges at Jack's exam. “What’s going on?”

Jack frowns, trying to decide if he's satisfied with what he found. Then glancing around, he motions for Mac to follow him. "Not here. I'll tell you when we get there."

“We got a mission?” Mac snaps his jacket closed. He licks his lips. “I… I haven’t been cleared yet. I mean, I'm fine and I think the week off was overkill but..."

Jack turns, flashing a smile at him. "Normally, I'd never take you back out until you've been cleared. You remember that, hoss. Don't let people force you back to full duty until you've seen a doc. And don't you go ignoring doctor's orders cause you think you're fine. You can do some real damage that way. This is something different though. Something only we can take care of. And it's gotta be today." His voice turns low and even more serious. Eyes scanning Mac's face.

Shivering deeper into his jacket, from the cold and the serious tone of Jack's voice, his breath condenses in the air.

When he received the orders shipping him out to Afghanistan he expected desert and sand, not cold and the occasional snow storm. The first beams of sun are cresting the horizon and this cold will melt away as the sun rises, but it's still a surprise. And it makes his shoulder ache. He blows out another breath watching the vapor coil.

Jack spins around as they reach the Humvee, grabbing Mac's gear from him and tossing it in the back.

“Hurry up, get in.” 

He catches Mac’s hand before he can grab the radio, snatching it up himself. "This is Snakebite One-One. We're requesting to roll out on Operation Paperclip."

“That’s a big ten-four. Good luck boys.”

Mac raises an eyebrow at Jack. "We're going out recruiting German scientists?"

"You understood that reference?" Jack chuckles.

"Well, yeah, of course."

"I should have known, you think you're the Captain America of this partnership, don't ya?"

"What?"

"You don't get to be Cap just cause you're blond. Though the big dumb blond risk-taking hero thing? I can see that."

Mac lowers his eyelids, concentrating. "There are actual words coming out of your mouth but..."

"Operation Paperclip, recruiting Arim Zola who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum that created Captain America."

"Operation Paperclip, an actual secret operation of the Army Counterintelligence Corps."

"Oh, yeah, well it was that too."

Mac snorts. "Too?"

"Just thought a young 'un like you might know your comic books better'n your military history. I forgot you're actually a geek not a nerd."

Mac rolls his eyes. "So, you going to tell me what's going on? And why we're heading out before the sun is out on a duplicated named operation?"

Jack's teasing expression turns into a tight frown. “Got some surprise intel late last week. About a friendly keeping information from us. Important stuff. Stuff we should have known. Should have been able to act on and prepare for."

Mac shifts in his seat, feeling the sting of betrayal. Worry about the men and women in his barracks and unit and across the Middle East rolling through him. Worry about Jack and the other friends he's made during his deployment and how this could impact them, could affect their safety. The job is hard enough without their allies keeping secrets, though Mac isn't naive enough to think that if situations were reversed their government or superior officers might make the same call.

"What's our role?"

"We're meeting someone. Couple of klicks out. Got a few hours to kill once we do."

"Do you trust them?" Mac asks, looking up at Jack.

"Yeah," Jack says slowly. "Yeah, I do. I trust 'em your life."

Mac is about to open his mouth and protest those words, question why Jack doesn't trust them with his own, except the seriousness of Jack's tone bleeds through. Jack stayed. Signed up for another tour instead of going home just because he didn't want anybody else watching Mac's back.

This is the highest honor Jack can bestow on anyone. Trusting someone with Mac's life.

Jack slips on a pair of sunglasses against the blinding light of day. The sun cresting the horizon turning the world from cool blue to warm gold.

"There," Jack says, smacking Mac's shoulder and gesturing through the windshield at another vehicle pulled off to the side of the road.

The startling bright obscures the figures in the front seat, leaving them in shadows and Mac blinking against sunspots in his vision.

Jack kills the engine and they sit in the cab for a second before he extends his fist. "Here we go."

Mac bumps it absently, the motion already a comforting second nature action. Walking into danger and the unknown together. Steadying nerves and offering a promise, you go kaboom, I go kaboom. He follows Jack's lead, exiting the Humvee.

The doors open on the other vehicle. Mac squints against the sunshine. There's something familiar about the gaits of the figures moving towards them.

“Charlie?” Mac’s voice raises in confusion and then excitement. “Carlos?” He reaches out a hand to each man in turn, getting pulled into a half hug as he greets them. “What’s going on?”

Jack comes up behind him, slapping him on the shoulder. “Came to our attention that a certain someone is celebrating his twenty-first birthday in country. Can't believe you didn't tell us."

"Yeah, come on, man. You're gonna deprive us of the chance to celebrate with you?" Carlos teases.

"Twenty-one's a big deal, Mac," Charlie agrees.

Mac gapes, mentally accessing a calendar and counting out the days. “How did you…”

“Doesn’t matter how we found out, just that you didn’t bother to say anything.”

Mac shrugs. There’s a lot to unpack when it comes to birthdays. Not the can of worms his friends were expecting to open when they decided to surprise him. Doesn’t want to tell them he hasn’t celebrated his birthday in eleven years. 

The day has a way of sneaking up on him. Another random day in the middle of March. Easy enough to miss in the monotonous hum of day to day living. Especially if you’re trying to forget about it. 

And even easier to miss when you’re downrange and your priorities shift. Staying alive and making sure your buddy makes it home safe is more important than the arbitrary date on the calendar that you arrived in the world. He shoves the lid back on and accepts the gift they've handed him.  


“It just didn’t seem to come up.”

”Maybe a week ago when I was complaining about turning thirty-six, that could have been a segue into that topic of discussion."

"Didn't want to make you feel old."

"Ya told me you weren't old enough to drink, like that didn't make me feel ancient. Following that up with but I will be in less than two weeks would have helped," Jack gently squeezes the back of Mac's neck.

Mac laughs at the memory.

_ “I’m not twenty-one yet,” Mac said with a shrug. “I can’t.” _

_ “I’m over twenty-one, I’ll buy ya a beer.” _

_ “I don’t think that’s how it works.” _

_ “Well, it’s my birthday and you’ll drink if I want you to.” _

_ “And that’s definitely not how the song goes.” _

_ “Unless you don’t want one. That’s okay. You decide you don’t want to drink that’s your choice. No shame in that. You don’t need to drink to have a good time. Probably better for ya if you don’t. Healthier and stuff.” _

_ “It's not like I've never had alcohol. At MIT my friend Frankie took me out once. Bought a whole bunch of shots after we proved one of the theories we were working on." _

_ "Your brain under the influence might be a scary thing for all of us." _

_ "And I'm thinking after that microwave incident, I should probably refrain from doing anything that might land me in more trouble." _

“I guess it just didn’t really seem that important. Just another day.”

“Aw, Mac, of course, it’s important. A day for your friends and family to celebrate you and be grateful that you’re here making the world a little cooler place. How could we ignore that?” Jack eyes him, appraising, and for a minute Mac worries his partner will see right through him. See all the broken messed up pieces. The jagged edges that don’t fit together quite right. 

“It especially matters here, hoss. Every day is a gift.” Jack holds his gaze, making sure the words reach him.   


“Twenty-one is the last of the milestone birthdays,” Charlie agrees. 

“And around here? We need to make the most of it. Bust out the drinks, Dalton!” Carlos claps. 

“Alright,” Jack says, kicking the previously ignored cooler at his feet forward. “Couple of things you should probably know. You’re young. You’re gonna make some mistakes and some dumb choices, I just don’t want you coming back to me and sayin’ I didn’t warn ya about any of this stuff.” 

“Oh no,” Mac murmurs, running a hand through his hair. He has a feeling this is going to dissolve into one of Jack’s talks. One of his rambling stories about life lessons and ground rules. 

“Beer before liquor, never sicker. Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear.” Jack strokes the stubble on his chin. “I think that’s how it goes. Either way, you drink too much of anything you’re gonna be hungover the next day and driving the porcelain bus.” 

Jack reaches down pulling open the cooler. “Except don’t actually get behind the wheel of any vehicle if you’ve been drinking.” 

Condensation drips off the ice cold bottle Jack hands to him. 

“And it’s not a good idea to drink on an empty stomach. Make sure you got some food in there, especially you. Scrawny kid like you, I’m not saying you’re gonna be a lightweight or anything, but you’re gonna metabolize the stuff pretty fast. Probably won’t take as much to get a good buzz goin'.” 

Jack continues to pass out the beers before snagging one for himself.

“You do end up with a hangover, don’t take Tylenol. I’m sure you probably know more about the science but the two together are really bad for your liver. Something about how it’s processed out of your body. Better take ibuprofen and drink some gatorade or something.” 

“You got your knife with you, boy scout?” Carlos asks. 

Mac pats down his pocket searching for his knife and flipping open the bottle opener. The cap flips out of his hands and lands in the sand with a soft puff. He passes the knife across the circle to Charlie. 

“And don’t drink alone,” Jack catches his eye. “Shit happens. Bad days, bad missions. You lose friends and it feels like life is closing in. Promise me you won’t drink alone.”

“Yeah, okay, Jack,” Mac smiles, slow and shy. He doesn’t know exactly what to do with the way Jack wears his heart on his sleeve or expresses his concern over Mac’s wellbeing. 

“Happy birthday, Mac,” Jack says, clinking his bottle against Mac’s and repeating the action with Charlie and Carlos. Grinning as he takes a swig.

Mac can’t help but smile, feeling for the first time in a while that maybe he belongs somewhere. He tips the bottle against his lips and swallows. Gulps and pulls back sputtering. 

“People drink this stuff? On purpose?”

Carlos laughs, slapping a guffawing Charlie on the back.

“Sorry hoss, can’t get those fancy microbrews in the desert,” Jack smirks at Mac’s expression. “I’ll make it up to you someday. Make sure you never have to drink crappy beer on your birthday again once we get home.”

“Deal,” Mac clinks his bottle against Jack’s again, then quickly presses the bottle to his lips to hide the sudden swell of emotions at Jack’s words. He worries that this time if he sputters on the sip it will be because of the feelings lodged in his throat. 

He probably didn’t mean anything by it. Probably just a casual promise in the middle of a war zone. It’s one thing for Jack to stick around in the sandbox, watch his back and keep him breathing. To promise that Mac will make it home safe and in one piece. Make sure Mac doesn’t get himself killed. It’s a whole ‘nother thing to think that Jack might stick around once they’re stateside again. 

Mac can’t think about that. Can’t let himself hope that maybe Jack is promising to stick around even then. 

“And now, one last life lesson, and this one is important, never trust a lady who drinks scotch.”

Before Mac can open his mouth, to divert the topic from what is sure to be one of Jack's long rambling stories or stop one of his friend’s from asking about it, Carlos replies, “now that sounds like there’s a good story there.”

“Oh no,” Mac whispers as Jack’s eyes gleam.

“Let me tell ya a story about little ol’ Elsie McKay.” 


End file.
